


Something Blue.

by infinitysoup



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:24:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitysoup/pseuds/infinitysoup
Summary: Deaths are hard. Even with a thousands years of living, Deaths are hard. The Doctor, with his wounds unhealed, regretfully finds himself to be the bearer of a terrible news to a dear friend.





	Something Blue.

**_Something Old._ **

 

The air is crisp and cold with the night sky clear and adorned with twinkling stars that shine above the desolate streets. And upon fallen snow stands a blue box that seemed to peek through the ebony trees, sitting in front of a row of houses - a pale blue in particular. The lanky man clad in tweed, and proud inhabitant of the blue box leans against its old wood, a nostalgic aura surrounding him as he watches two figures at a door frame embracing each other with glee. The Doctor sees his ginger companion retreat into the house, and his younger self wiping a tear before following her. He recalls this memory - one among his many fondest, and one he found himself revisiting more often than he originally planned. He still remembers the feeling of the warm light on his skin as he sat on the table, his wife by his side. A family he had made - all together on Christmas day. To him, the universe was like pieces of a puzzle scattered and sprawled chaotically, never to make sense. And only in precious moments, moments like these, were they to fit together.

The wounds of their demise were still fresh and bleeding. The Doctor now stands with his hands placed on the rim of the hexagonal console, the warm orange interior of the TARDIS dimmed down to a dullness after the incident. She was mourning just as much as he was. His hand absentmindedly strokes the rim, passing a silent thank you to her for bringing him not where he intended or wished to be, but what he needed to see. The old memory instills another emotion into the mix - just a little amount of...strength. But whatever minuteness this strength came in, to him it seemed enough. Enough to cease the delay. This prolonged truth had gone long enough.

But of course, he was The Doctor. The madman with a special blue box. He had all the time in the universe. Yet how long would he let this sit on his chest, let it burden both his hearts? How long would he let the other suffer from never knowing what really happened? His hands work almost automatically across the console.

It was time to tell Brian.

 

**_Something New._ **

 

The air is comparatively warmer, the dull sky insinuating an oncoming rain. The leaves on the trees have begun to fall, as if to bid farewell to the season past. The Doctor plants his feet among the bed of fallen crimson, clutching onto his umbrella. The house that he stands in front of is rather lonesome, and void. Its light blue walls once painted to let it radiate its liveliness now seems to be draining in energy. In its window is the bent silhouette of a man that holds a rather strange small box in his hand. He sees the figure slump in an exhaustive manner. The Doctor sighs internally before opening his umbrella to the first drops of rain. Coming here to this same place had begun to get old for him, watching Brian sit in futile hopefulness. With his head hung, he makes his way towards his front door.

Yet he halts midway. How was he supposed to say it? That this wait for his son and daughter-in-law to return was all in vain, and he was entirely to blame? To say he was sorry? Sorry wouldn’t help anybody, sorry wouldn’t bring them back. To lose a child is unfathomable and the abode of the deepest grief. He knew that all too well. So how could he be the bearer of that news to Brian?

The rain begins to pour, the sky now clouded with patches of dark grey. He finds himself in the middle of the empty street, his fingers twiddling with the ends of his umbrella. In the countless times he’s arrived here, this was the furthest he could go before retreating back into his box. _No, maybe not now. Maybe later is for the best_.

Yet he musters up his strength to take a new step; a new voice telling him what needed to be done, no matter what comes after. If Brian should hate him, he understands- agrees even. He now stands before his door, thinking of every possible way to convey their demise.Throughout a thousand years of living, this was among the most difficult of things.

The doorbell stares at him and after a moment's hesitation, he presses it.

 

_S **omething Borrowed.** _

 

Following the sound the bell is the sound of hurried footsteps approaching the door that Brian later swings open. There’s hope in his eyes, but what breaks the Doctor is seeing him clutch the square black box. Their adventure before the last.

“....I’m…” It chokes him, the words forming a lump in his throat. The Doctor can’t help let his eyes get moist, but what comes next doesn’t need saying. Words became pointless, for in whatever way he said it, the aftermath would be the same. It only takes one look for Brian to understand.

It takes the man a while to let it sink in, and it seems as if they had been standing there for eons. First came denial, and as the box finally falls to the floor - sorrow. Even if it is in silence, both men share their grief as something new connected them to each other.

They were both sad men living in sad blue houses.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a small piece/project I tried working on to keep myself busy. Hope you guys enjoy it, and let me know how it is! :)


End file.
